


Like Coming Home

by northernmongrel



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alaska, Feelings, Gabe is an old man, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Recall, Team Talon (Overwatch)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 09:23:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13073928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northernmongrel/pseuds/northernmongrel
Summary: "I’ve spent some time studying in that field to know what love is.” Moira says, “—And you do love him, Gabriel Reyes.”Jesse McCree receives an invitation to Blackwatch's old base, courtesy of Gabe.





	Like Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> Look at this mush! Also, I'm back after 0.5 of a year to offer you this. Mush because I love the idea of talon Jesse.

The facility is thirty kilometres outside Anchorage, Alaska. Nestled amongst snow tipped peaks and pine trees burdened with snow. It’s mostly reinforced glass and concrete, wedged into a shale mountainside. _Blackwatch’s Northern base of operations_. 

 

And now, it belongs to Talon. 

 

Upon Moira’s insistence, she’d moved her research into it’s medical quarters. Set up her lab equipment and adorned the walls with wire and tubing that strung from the ceiling. The base now housed the entirety of her life’s work on this side of hemisphere. 

 

And Gabriel, had finally invited himself over for afternoon tea. 

 

It’s dark when he arrives. The drawbacks of polar nights. 

 

The front entrance is unlocked, the glass doors sliding apart with a gentle hiss. His heavy boots echo down the empty corridors, tracking snow into the facility as he makes his way. His duffel bag thrown over his shoulder, he knows the blueprint like the back of his hand. The place sits in the state it was abandoned nearly a decade beforehand; barren and cold. But fully functional. The lights are on and the heating vents tick away. 

 

Moira is in the medical sector. When Gabriel enters, she flicks him an eyebrow, but her attentions remains on her work. 

 

“O’Deorain.” Gabriel nods.

 

“Reyes.” Moira acknowledges, “I assume your trip was pleasant from down South.”

 

“As pleasant as it can be.” Gabriel replies. He scrunches his nose, stepping closer into the blue light of Moira’s work space. She’s tinkering with a vat of blue fluid; inside, a fetal rabbit is suspended. 

 

Gabriel raises an eyebrow. 

 

Moira sets her tools down. 

 

“Feeling alright?” Moira crosses slender arms across her chest. She’s all sharp angles and regal pointedness. Gabriel is certain theres not a soft point on the woman. 

 

Gabriel shrugs a shoulder and cracks his neck, “Problems with the spine again. Same as before.” he grumbles.

 

“Lumbar?” Moira asks. 

 

“Yeah. Don’t think they’re rearranging correctly.” Gabriel replies, knuckling his lower back.

 

“Pinched nerve most likely. I can examine it. Perhaps you damaged your spinal brace in Russia.” Moira flutters a hand. 

 

“Later.” Gabriel replies, “I’m gonna go drop off my bag.”

 

“Pick a room. Any room, I sleep in this sector.” Moira turns back to her work.

 

“ _Of course you do_.” Gabriel growls under his breath as he turns to leave Moira to her scientific convictions. 

 

He chooses room A3. It’s his old assigned quarters from back in the day. When he shoulders open the door, he pauses. The places smells familiar; of cold air and crisp sheets. And that underlying sense of _home_. One of many he had at the time of Blackwatch. It’s unsettling, but he steps inside anyhow. He tosses his duffel onto the mattress and switches on the thermostat. The window overlooks the Alaskan landscape, bathed in the darkness of December. 

 

Gabriel strips the weighted black coat from his shoulders and shucks off his boots. The floor is freezing, even for his disorganized body. He pads into the bathroom, twisting on the shower and waits for the water to warm through the pipes. As he sits perched on the toilet, he runs a hand through his mess of curls. 

 

He’d flown in from New York, with a short layover in Salt Lake city. Talon’s private jet had been tangled up in the UK, so he’d opted for company connections. He’s due back in London by Sunday, which grants him five days in Alaska. Yes, he’d been meaning to pay Moira a visit. Since their last little summit in Monaco, the leading heads of Talon had made themselves scarce. He’d been dealing with an asset in New York for the past two weeks. And Moira’s little base had been the ideal meeting place either way. 

 

_If_ , Jesse McCree decided to show his face at Blackwatch’s old base of operations. It was familiar ground. Nostalgic for the both of them.

 

The bathroom starts to steam up, the water scalding hot. Gabriel steps into the stream, bowing his head to the torrent, wishing away the stinging in his spine and the ache in his bones. 

 

///

 

Jesse McCree is on time. 

 

Never once had Gabriel known _Jesse McCree_ to be punctual in the entire span of his military career. 

 

But Gabriel finds the gunslinger leaning against the Northern side of the building. Jesse breaths smoke and cold breath into the Alaskan morning air. His gun holstered and his stetson tipped down to hide his face. The gunslinger bundled from head to toe in warm gear with nothing but the clothes on his back. 

 

And Gabriel steals a moment. At a distance, he can imagine them both ten years ago. Sharing a cigarette on this same balcony, with Jesse cursing out the harshness of Alaska’s wilderness. 

 

_Southern tenderfoot_ Gabriel had called him. 

 

He mouthes the same words as he approaches Jesse now. But the words must have slipped his throat, because Jesse looks up to Gabriel’s approach. 

 

Jesse doesn’t even attempt to break the ice first off. He just flicks his cigarette to the ground and crushes it with the heel of his boot.

 

“No holding each other at gunpoint?” Gabriel rasps in disbelief. 

 

“If you want, ah’ could pull her out just for you.” Jesse replies, patting the gun at his hip, “But people always told me you can’t kill whats already dead.”

 

“Is that so? Who told you that.” Gabriel says in mock disbelief.

 

“A tarot card reader down in Mexico city. ‘Bout five years ago.” Jesse shrugs.

 

Gabriel snorts.

 

Jesse chuckles. The sound rich and earthy. 

 

“Listen. Ah’ don’t know why you called me up here. Hell, ah’ took my bets on you even showing your sorry skin.” Jesse drawls.

 

“We need to talk.” Gabriel replies. 

 

“Yeah? After all these years. You could've sent a letter.” 

 

“You don’t exactly have a fixed address these past years.” Gabriel growls, “Between train hopping and disrupting matters that don’t concern you.”

 

“And here ah’ thought you were playing cards at the big table. Turns out you’re holed up in this frozen place. You couldn't have picked somewhere warm?”

 

“This seemed like neutral ground. A place you’d trust.” Gabriel replies, “A place you knew well.”

 

“What do you want Gabe.” Jesse huffs.

 

“I’m offering you a seat at the table.”

 

Jesse slaps a hand to the side of his thigh, “You gotta be joking.” he snorts.

 

“No. I’m not.” Gabriel grits. 

 

“I ain’t one for politics. Never was.” Jesse shakes his head, resettling the stetson atop his head.

 

“But you always were a smart kid.” Gabriel replies, “You know how this works.”

 

“ _Nah_. See, ah’ always knew the hand that fed. The UN. Blackwatch. _You_.” 

 

Jesse’s words hurt. Gabriel winces at the pang in his chest.

 

“—Sides, we both know how these things end.” Jesse says, bitterness on his tongue. 

 

Gabriel doesn’t respond. He doesn’t want to lie. So instead, they stare each other down, Jesse’s eyes all warmth and hazel and _knowing_. And Gabriel is thankful that his mask is in place. 

 

Eventually, Jesse looks away with a halfhearted shrug. 

 

“You can stay here. As long as you want. It’s only Moira and myself.” Gabriel relents.

 

“ _That_ woman.” Jesse raises a lip.

 

Gabriel ignores the jab, “—Make yourself at home until you can get transport back to wherever you came from.”

 

“Arizona seems like heaven on earth compared to here.” Jesse tips his stetson. 

 

Gabriel can’t argue. 

 

///

 

He finds Jesse in the mess hall later that afternoon. Jesse is rummaging through the fridge in the kitchen, grumbling and cussing under his breath. His frame a silhouette against the soft glow of the lightbulb.

 

“Hungry?”

 

“Forgot O’Deorain lives on a diet of plain yogurt and orange juice.” Jesse complains, straightening up from the fridge. 

 

“There’s instant coffee in the cupboard. Probably a few packets of instant noodles.”

 

“Yeah? Thanks.” Jesse says, opening up the cupboard. Sure enough, there sits a packet of instant coffee and a box of noodles.

 

“Those damn things never expire.” Gabriel shrugs, leaning against the counter to watch as Jesse starts a pot of hot water on the stove. 

 

“You want one?” Jesse asks, jutting a pack of noodles in Gabriel’s direction; _chicken and vegetable flavoured_. 

 

Gabriel shakes his head.

 

“Suit yourself.” Jesse shrugs and turns back to the stove. 

 

“You’ve been fine?” Gabriel asks, his voice even.

 

“Sides a few creaks and aches. Ain’t nothing new. Arms been giving me shit the past few days. Apparently cold is bad for the arthritis.” Jesse flexes his prothetic for demonstration.

 

“Tell me about it.” Gabriel grumbles.

 

“Look at us. Two old men discussing our aches and pains.” Jesse chuckles while spooning coffee granules into a mug.

 

Gabriel grins behind his mask.

 

“See you’re holding up.” Jesse motions with his mug of steaming coffee at Gabriel, “Never looked better old man.” Jesse winks, but it lacks lustre.

 

“O’Deorain has made a few advancements.” Gabriel says.

 

“Yeah? No more throwing up your insides all hours of the night?” Jesse arches an eyebrow from behind his coffee.

 

“Yeah. We took care of that a while back.” Gabriel snuffs.

 

“And the face?” Jesse lowers his voice in the silence of the kitchen.

 

Gabriel reaches up to unlatch his mask. His gloved fingers know the release points, and he takes it off with practiced ease. The unfiltered lights hurts his eyes and he blinks back the abrupt stabbing sensation. 

 

Jesse sucks in a breath.

 

“It’s bad. I know. O’Deorain can’t fix it, we’ve tried.” Gabriel says it like an apology. 

 

“Nah, not that.” Jesse looks down his cup of coffee, “It’s nice to see you Gabe. ‘Spite of everything.” Jesse mutters. 

 

It’s Gabriel’s turn to draw a breath. 

 

///

 

_The domesticity is awkward_. Like they should've been shooting at each. But the building feels haunted by the shadows of memories inside Gabriel’s skull. And he imagines Jesse must feel the same. They shuffle around each other for the next day, Moira keeping herself holed up in the medical sector all hours of the clock. 

 

Gabriel has an extended voice call with Sombra. Talon’s resident hacker is residing in London alongside Akande. He listens to Sombra moan and fuss over her current project while chewing on candy over the call line. She asks Gabriel’s opinion on changing the lights in her room from sunset purple to _african violet_ , and that’s when Gabriel hangs up.

 

He leaves his room to wander the empty corridors. The lights flicker as he strides along, eventually leading him to the training room where he finds Jesse hammering away at a punching bag. 

 

At thirty-seven, Jesse is still in good shape. Sure, the kid never had rippling muscle and toned abdominal muscles like Gabriel did back in the day. _But Jesse was solid_. 

 

Sweat darkens the back of Jesse’s ratty grey t-shirt. His chest expanding to take in deep breaths in time with his punches. 

 

“Working off steam?” Gabriel says from the doorway.

 

Jesse stops mid-swing, steadying the punching bag with one hand. He’s panting, his cheeks and neck flushed warm.

 

“Hey. I sorted out transport from Anchorage. Tomorrow morning.” Jesse says breathlessly, “Ah’ll be back on the run in no time.”

 

“I see.” Gabriel scrambles to hide his disappointment. He could have Jesse stay. _It’d be easy_. He has the power and connections now. He could place a bounty on Jesse McCree’s head and someone from inside Talon would collect it for fun. Or he could simply restrain him right here on their old base. Lock him away. _Keep him safe_. 

 

He pushes those dark thoughts to the back of his skull. And instead, tosses Jesse a water bottle from the bench. 

 

“And you can go off on your merry way, forgetting this lil’ family reunion ever happened.” Jesse says, screwing the lid off the water and swallowing a mouthful. 

 

“The offer still stands.”

 

“Yeah, forget it Gabe.” Jesse says, throwing a towel over his shoulder, “Just forget it.”

 

“You know. That wasn't me. Ten years ago. Overwatch gutted itself from the inside. There were others.”

 

“I know. Which is why ah’ keep my fingers out of politics.”

 

“Morrison would've never—”

 

“Naw. I don’t wanna hear it.” Jesse raises his hand, and Gabriel shuts his mouth, “You keep your secrets. Ah’ don’t wanna know.”

 

Gabriel scowls, black smoke seeping from his between his lips. He covers a hand over his mouth, watching Jesse watch him. It’s almost like that affirms the gunslinger’s mind, because Jesse brushes past him and out of the room.

 

“Now, if ya’ don’t mind. Ah’ hope this place still has hot showers.” Jesse drawls.

 

///

 

Gabriel is laying face down on Moira’s exam table. Naked, except for a hospital gown hanging loose at his hips. Moira is drilling into his spine, and he can _feel_ it. Her hands are cold against his skin and her nails sharp, draining spinal fluid and readjusting his back brace. 

 

“You’ve damaged one of the struts. And slipped a disc.” Moira says cooly. 

 

“How bad?”

 

“Could have been worse. A miscalculation on you part, I assume. But I’m reinforcing the lumbar to be safe.”

 

“Recovery time?”

 

“None. However, you have been walking around with a dislodged spinal disc. Impressive.”

 

“Yeah? _Fuck_.” Gabriel growls. 

 

“Have you talked to McCree?” Moira asks conversationally. 

 

“Yeah. He said no.”

 

“Oh well. Less mouthes to feed.” 

 

“He could've been an asset to Talon.” Gabriel grits out. 

 

“ _Please_. You know theres a storm brewing. You offered him shelter.”

 

“And if I’d said it like that, he would've shot me between the eyes.”

 

“Serves both of you right. _Emotions_. A waste of valuable time here on earth.” Moira says, drilling into more bone. 

 

“ _You wouldn't know_.” Gabriel hisses, his fingers clawing into the paper sheet of the exam table. The pain radiates up and down his spine, trickling along every nerve in his body.

 

“You’re incorrect. Emotions can be broken down in the human body to a molecular level. I’ve spent some time studying in that field to know what love is.” Moira says, withdrawing her metal tools from beneath Gabriel’s skin. It’s a blessed relief when she starts to solder his skin back up, “—And you do love him, Gabriel Reyes.”

 

“Thats enough.” Gabriel snarls. He seizes up when a spasm wracks his lower back.

 

“You’ll want to be gentle. No strain on the location. No heavy lifting.” Moira says blandly. 

 

Gabriel sits up slowly. Moira offers him his clothes back. 

 

“—He’ll follow you. Like he always has.” Moira says, and turns to start wiping up the mess of Gabriel’s operation with acrid sanitizer. 

 

///

 

The next morning Gabriel sits on the north facing balcony. The sky is lavender and the mountains indigo. There won’t be a sunrise for at least another two months, the land awash with eternal night. But he’ll be in London by Sunday. He’ll be greeted with Sombra’s usual flair and sugary doting. Akande’s deep voice and firm presence. _His new familiar_. 

 

And Jesse McCree will go back to wherever he came from. Running from the law.

 

Gabriel closes his eyes, listening the dead silence of the Alaskan winter. He can hear the blood rush in his ears. And the crunch of boots in snow.

 

He cracks open an eye to see Jesse, knee deep in snow trudging towards the base. 

 

“I couldn't find the keys to the ol’ truck in the garage.” Jesse calls.

 

“That so.” Gabriel calls back.

 

“Prolly’ missed my flight. Darn it all.” Jesse says, trudging closer and closer to the balcony. He’s puffing white breath into the morning air, waving a gloved hand at Gabriel. It really is a comical sight, Gabriel can’t deny it.

 

“Say. When are you leaving this frozen wasteland?” Jesse says, finally close enough to Gabriel to stop hollering into the pristine winter morning. 

 

“Sunday morning, to London.” Gabriel replies. 

 

“Reckon ah’ll stick around 'till then.” Jesse says. 

 

“There’s always space.” Gabriel replies. It takes Jesse three long strides to embrace Gabriel. Jesse’s face pressed into the crook of Gabriel’s neck and shoulder, puffing warm breath against his sickly skin. Gabriel digs his fingers into the meat of Jesse’s back, selfishly pulling the other man closer. 

 

“Careful of my back.” Gabriel mutters.

 

“ _Old man_.” Jesse says, his voice just above a whisper.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
